Page 53 of Torment
Her breathing changes slightly. I finally glance over to her. Crystal blue eyes watch me carefully with unshed tears.
“Do you think I let you walk into that house tonight without already deciding it would be the last time?” I ask softly. Her lips part. “I don’t need to know every detail of what it was like there.Not until you’re ready to tell me. But the minute that woman sent you a dress, it was over. You don’t need their car. You don’t need their apartment.”
I pause, giving her a minute to let the words settle in her gut, to believe me.
“You’re not theirs.”
The words settle heavy between us. She lets out a sigh.
“And where exactly am I supposed to go?” she asks.
I don't smile. I don't smirk. I just answer. My eyes meet hers, locking her in.
“You’re already home.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Dawn creepsthrough the penthouse window, bathing the room in a soft glow. Ashlynn’s still asleep when I get up. She breathes through parted lips softly, her face nuzzled close to my side. She didn’t have much to say last night after I gave her a solution to severing her relationship with the Steele’s, not even after I stayed buried inside of her until she fell asleep. I don’t expect today to be easy for her. As much as she wants to be free of them, she doesn't want to feel like she needs to rely on me. I don't need her to tell me that.
My eyes trace the freckles on her cheeks, the curve of her lips. Brushing a lock of hair from her forehead, I lean in and give her a soft kiss there. A groan slips from her parted lips before she buries her face in the pillow. Her eyes flutter open, sleep still heavy in her gaze.
“You know who stares at people who sleep?” she asks with a small smirk.
“Mmm, why don’t you tell me, doll?”
“Psychopaths,” she whispers teasingly.
A slow smile pulls at my lips. “Good thing you’ve got a soft spot for one.”
She rolls onto her back, stretching, the black sheets sliding down her bare shoulders. Her hair’s a mess. She looks warm. Real.Mine.
Her gaze slides to the windows. The sunlight that streams through the crack in the curtains brightens her crystal blue eyes. She turns on her side again to face me, a weight settling over her.
“You were serious,” she says quietly.
It’s not a question. Silence settles between us, not tense–just heavy with understanding. She studies my face, looking for the angle. The catch. The cost.
“You really want to send the car back.”
“Yes.”
“And the loft.”
“That too,” I say, stroking her cheek with my thumb.
Her jaw tightens slightly. Pride. Independence. That spark that refuses to be tied to anyone. To be owned by anyone.
“I don’t want to jump from one leash to the next, Karson.”
I sit up, bracing an arm beside her head.
“You’re not on a leash. Not with me. The only thing I want from you is you. That’ll never change,” I promise her.
Her throat moves as she swallows, then nods. I lean down, brushing my lips against hers.
“Get dressed,” I whisper. “We’ve got a couple returns to make.”
Walking into the loft,the air is cold, silent, dark. Flipping on a light, Ashlynn brushes past me, moving quickly to gather some bags from the closet I used to hide in.
